


By Any Other Name

by hallowgirl



Category: Camili-Fandom, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c., camiband-fandom, david Cameron-fandom, ed Miliband-fandom
Genre: (at least politically), (but totally flirting), (kind of), Banter, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Camerband, Camili, Deadpan Snarkers, Definitely Not Flirting, Everyone Can (Sort Of) See It, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy, Humour, I'm so sorry, M/M, Nick Finds It Hilarious, Nick Kinda Ships It, Nick's Great, Nicknames, Opposites Attract, Rival Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, camerband (hinted, it was a dare ok, just for fun, lisping, slip of the tongue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"David knows the second it's out of his mouth that it's a mistake." It's not as though it means anything. It's certainly not how David thinks of the man usually. It's just...a slip of the tongue. And one person who was certainly never meant to hear this little slip of the tongue was Ed bloody Miliband.<br/>My friend is a big Camerband shipper and dared me to write this little ficlet. Obviously, complete fiction, never happened, not intended to be taken as real life, no offence intended, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* This is one fandom I never thought I'd write for.
> 
> I LOST A DARE, OK?  
> Ok, long story short.My friend is a big Camerband shipper and laments the lack of fics about them and she dared me to write one, since she knows I write fanfic and reluctantly, I agreed. This is the result. She always thought it would be hilarious if Miliband got nicknamed "Mili" and so I ran with that. (Also, I have, in real life, called my friends by completely the wrong names, which has always led to hilarity.) Obviously, this is set back when Ed was still Labour leader.
> 
> OF COURSE THIS IS COMPLETE FICTION. I MEAN IT. COMPLETE AND UTTER FICTION. THIS NEVER HAPPENED. EVER. IT'S FICTION. FICTION.
> 
> As you can tell, I'm more than a bit paranoid. Leave a comment if you like it, though!

David knows the second it's out of his mouth that it's a mistake.  
He keeps his eyes fixed on his desk, as though the papers in front of him have just become the most interesting thing in the world and tries to ignore the fact that every voice in the room has fallen silent. He grits his teeth, wishing he could disappear into the desk and then slowly raises his head to see every face in the room staring at him.  
He can't stop his eyes moving from one face to the other _-why did he say that, why on earth did he say that, for God's sake, how did that ever come out of his mouth-_ and sees Nick grimacing, eyes darting back and forth between David and _him_ , who David is pointedly _not_ looking at, because it was a _mistake_ , a mistake that does not mean _anything_ , it's just _a slip of the tongue-_  
Next to Nick, George is staring at David with an eyebrow arched, his lips pressed tightly together and clearly one moment away from bursting into laughter. Over by the door, Balls is glancing between David and his own Leader with an expression that's an odd mix of confusion, laughter and abject horror, and on the other side of his desk-  
David forces himself to look at Miliband, determinedly keeping his face straight, silently _daring_ him to comment on what has just come out of David's mouth. He can feel the heat creeping up his neck from his collar but he stares straight at Miliband, every muscle tensed, waiting for the comeback.  
Miliband opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's still staring at David, with those stupid big dark eyes, (that always look like he's waiting to be _kicked_ , why's he always _staring_ like that) and that confused, slightly perturbed look on his face, the one David sometimes catches across the despatch box , as though Miliband's still trying to work out whether he's just been insulted or not. (Usually, he has, but that's part of the fun.)  
David stares at him steadfastly, and Miliband looks back at him. The silence stretches between them, and David becomes aware that his heart is beating much faster than usual. (Because this is something he is _not_ going to be allowed to forget and _why did he have to say that?)_  
It's Miliband who breaks the silence.  
"Did you just-"  
"Moving on" David announces loudly, ignoring the warning look from Nick and shooting a glare at Miliband, daring him to say another word.  
He doesn't need to. David's often bemoaned the fact that Ed Balls has a job in the Shadow Cabinet but he thinks he'd take every insult Balls has ever thrown at him over the smug look on his face right this second, even as Nick aims a glare at him. (David makes a mental note to tell Nick not to glare-Nick is a lot of things but intimidating is not one of them.)  
Or he would make that note, but currently he's distracted by Balls displaying all the subtlety of a brick flying through the window as he asks "What the _hell_ did you just call Miliband?"  
David swallows, feeling a trickle of sweat meander between his shoulder blades. (Maybe the fan's broken-it's never seemed so warm in this room before.) "I know paying attention to detail doesn't come easily to Labour, Balls, but try to keep up" he says, as if the Shadow Chancellor's simply pointed out a drop in the opinion polls or a small flaw in the figures he's read out. Something tiny, insignificant, that will be forgotten before the end of the meeting. (Please let this be one of those things, _please..)_  
"Ed-" Miliband's voice is lower than usual, almost inaudible and this time, David can't meet his eyes, because God, it doesn't matter what he tells himself, they are not going to forget this and Miliband is _definitely_ not-  
Balls is staring at Miliband. "Miliband, have you gone off your-"  
"We need to get on" says Miliband abruptly and David feels his jaw drop so violently a part of him is vaguely surprised he hasn't injured himself. (The rest of him is preoccupied with the fact that he still can't believe what he said and the fact that Miliband's watching him with a decidedly odd expression now, his head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed.)  
Balls is opening his mouth again and Miliband turns to George and ploughs on with a question about the economy so determinedly that David's almost tempted to reassess his position on Miliband being less effective as a leader than your average banana skin. (Some things haven't changed.)  
Ignoring Nick's gaze and keeping all his attention on George, as if his Chancellor is telling the most fascinating story known to man, and not reciting figures that he's already explained to David three times, David spins through multiple explanations in his head, each one sounding less likely than the last. (He's not naive enough to think Miliband's going to let this go-politics, if nothing else, kills off naivetie like a bullet to the head.) He tries to look as though he's already forgotten about the whole thing, _water under the bridge, just tired, just a mistake,_ whilst not letting his gaze stray anywhere near Miliband.  
It would be useful if he could convince _himself_ that it's nothing too but unfortunately, as both he and Nick know, that isn't quite the case.  
It had been about a month ago. They'd just been discussing matters-documents they needed to sign, a few reform plans they needed to go over-it hadn't been any kind of official meeting, just a discussion and perhaps that's why his guard had slipped and when Nick had mentioned Miliband in some offhand way- _they'll want it to look like we agree with Ed on this, it might look good to get him on board_ -David had opened his mouth and said-  
He'd known what he'd said the second it was out and he'd snapped his mouth shut and looked up, praying Nick hadn't heard. Nick's grin had told him straight away that that prayer wasn't answered.  
"Did you-" Nick's grin had been growing broader by the second. "Did you just call Miliband-"  
"No, I didn't." The words had been too fast, too nervous and Nick's grin had grown even wider, making him look more like an excited schoolboy than someone who was supposed to be the Deputy Leader of a country.  
"You did, didn't you?"  
David had grabbed the nearest pile of documents, muttering something about _a slip of the tongue, didn't mean anything, tired anyway, probably just mispronounced it-_  
One look at Nick's face had told him that his Deputy wasn't convinced and it was one of the rare times in his life he actually found himself resenting Nick's sharpness when it came to anything to do with emotion.  
Because it _hadn't_ been anything. It really hadn't. It was just-a stupid _nickname._ When he thought about Miliband-in the context of politics, _obviously_ -it was generally just by-well-Miliband. Or Ed, when they were on slightly friendlier terms, which was all well and good, and which nobody could find fault with. Obviously.  
But this-it was just a name that he found crept in sometimes, in idle moments. When he was thinking about Miliband (why couldn't he have just said _Miliband?)_ without the usual accompanying thoughts of _idiot, ruin the country, drat, he's got a bloody point there, little git._ When he was just thinking of more- _amusing_ things.  
The bacon sandwich. The egg throwing (which even David had thought was a bit harsh and honestly, there were more civilized ways to make a point.) Even just moments when he admitted he agreed with Miliband about something and he caught Miliband's eyes widening momentarily or moments when that old lisp crept back into Miliband's speech just for a second and David had to bite back a grin at the habit, just- _little_ things.  
David bit back a grimace. _Little things?_ He'd taken to noticing _little things._ About _Miliband._  
And so it was just a name. A term of endearment, perhaps. A _mental_ term of endearment, because it was certainly one he did not plan on sharing with anyone else. And certainly not _Miliband._  
Nick had allowed himself to be persuaded that time-or maybe David had allowed himself to be persuaded that Nick was persuaded-that there _was nothing in it_ , that it was just _tiredness, a slip of the tongue,_ a million other excuses-and apart from that small grin as he reassured David that of course he understood, things like that happened all the time, it didn't mean anything, and no, of course he wouldn't mention it-not because it mattered, at all, just because there was no need-Nick had done an excellent job of behaving as if nothing at all had happened. Which it hadn't. The next time he' d faced Miliband across the despatch box, Miliband had been his usual relentlessly stubborn, stupidly idealistic self, and far from making David think in terms of endearment, had left the Prime Minister pondering a few more choice terms for his Opposition by the end of the hour.  
David tries to hang onto that feeling as the meeting comes to an end, because maybe he can still salvage this. There's a good chance Miliband didn't even hear properly. Of course there is. And anyway, it was just a simple mistake. He's probably blowing all of this up out of nothing. Of course.  
It's Nick who saves him from any further cross-examination by Balls (David immediately takes back any reservations he's had about Nick's talent for diplomacy) by approaching the Shadow Chancellor with some questions about the latest housing statistics because _obviously, everyone should be working together, so many people are facing a housing crisis_ which leads to Balls-slowly and with a lot of reluctance-accompanying him out of the room. David supposes that on balance, showing concern for the general population was probably judged as more important than trying to destroy the Prime Minister's reputation, which leads him to the worrying and new thought that perhaps Balls actually has some _sense._  
George excuses himself from the room with the excuse of "needing to discuss something with Ed" and David wonders if he's ever heard Osbourne tell a worse lie because the chances of him and Balls being in the same room together for more than ten minutes without getting a warning about the yelling (again) is about the same as him and Miliband getting through Questions without Miliband going on about food banks. (David hates that tone Miliband uses whenever he hits on anything even _close_ to a flaw in David's argument-the wide-eyed look that just _screams_ all his political slogans of _working for the greater good,_ standing up to the big, evil rich people for the poor, innocent working class. David would bet that most of the poor, innocent working class don't pay a £1.6 million mortgage on their house.)  
David's still thinking about that tone when he looks up and finds its' owner is right in front of him.  
Miliband's watching him quietly and David mentally curses himself for not finding some figure that needed to be checked right now, _immediately,_ and leaving after George. He briefly considers diving under the table and searching for something but decides that as Prime Minister, he probably ought to show a bit more grit. He stays where he is, struggling to keep his voice as level as possible.  
"Something wrong, Miliband?" There-it came out clearly _this_ time, why couldn't it have come out like that _earlier?_  
Miliband arches an eyebrow. "Cameron, I know Tories are masters of ignoring the obvious details-"  
"Miliband, I know Labour are masters of dodging around the issue-"  
A ghost of a smirk darts across Miliband's lips and that same stupid nickname-God, what's he _thinking,_ it's not a _nickname,_ he doesn't even _like_ -resurfaces in David's head. And right now is precisely the wrong time to be thinking of that because Miliband's already folding his arms and looking a little less confident now that it's clearly time to bring in the elephant in the room.  
"You-um. You called me-" The voice is more muffled now, a little more nasal, the same way it always is when Miliband's bringing up something awkward, his teeth digging into his bottom lip the way they always do. (David doesn't _try_ to notice these things, obviously, but he can hardly help being observant.)  
Miliband's eyes dart to David's and then away again, and David realises with a small shock that he's actually blushing. (He shoves _that_ name firmly out of his head because _that_ is the last thing he needs right now.)  
"You-"  
"Spit it out, Miliband, I haven't got all day." David might have known it was pointless hoping Miliband wouldn't have heard, given how the man seems to remember every little detail of every other speech David's ever given, if only for the pleasure of tripping him up on it at a later date. David wouldn't be surprised if mentioning to a quick change to his lunch order in the Commons canteen would bring Miliband popping up, with that wide-eyed, self-righteous look that always gets right under David's skin, bleating at him, _Is that another broken promise, Prime Minister?_  
"You called me Mili." Miliband's eyes are locked on David's now, and his teeth chew at his lip nervously. David drags his eyes away from Miliband's mouth as quickly as possible because Miliband's still staring at him, waiting for some kind of answer, and compared to this and the grilling he gets at Prime Minister's Questions, David would take Prime Minister's Questions any day.  
He opens his mouth, ready to mount a great defence about _slip of the tongue_ and _accident_ and _misheard_ and-  
"No, I didn't" he says feebly and curses himself the instant he sees Miliband's eyebrow arch.  
"Cameron, I know that Tories are accustomed to lying-"  
"Well, we must have learnt that from our last government." The retort snaps out automatically, almost without David realising, but at least this is familiar, something he knows with Miliband- _Miliband,_ not this new territory where Miliband's watching him almost curiously with his head tilted to one side, Miliband, _not Mili-_  
"You do know, Cameron, that you're supposed to answer a question?"  
David swallows, feeling the heat creep further up his neck. "I did" he says weakly, but one look at Miliband's face tells him this denial is even less convincing than the last.  
"Fine" he says, throwing up his hands, and keeping his eyes firmly away from Miliband's now. "It was a-slip of the tongue. That's all."  
"Cameron, even _you're_ better than that."  
David glares back at him. "Slip of the tongue." Miliband just shakes his head, almost pityingly, and David wishes for one mad moment he could throw one of the papers at him. "It _was._ Just because I was thinking-"  
He snaps his mouth shut instantly but the damage is done. Miliband's head is tilted to the side, his eyes resting on David's and when he speaks this time, his voice is softer. "What were you thinking about?"  
David eyes him suspiciously, waiting for this to be a trick-some ruse to get him to come out with some stupid remark he can't take back, that Miliband-obviously, being _Miliband-_ would remember or record and bring up in every single debate they have from now until the end of their political careers-but Miliband watches him for a moment and then sighs and sinks into a chair opposite David's desk. The two of them watch each other, David avoiding Miliband's eyes.  
"I'm curious." Miliband's voice is softer now and a slight lisp clings to the edge of the last word, which makes David's lip twitch ruefully and just makes that nickname scream even louder in his head.  
"It's not just-" He can feel his cheeks burning and reminds himself that it's bloody _Miliband._ "It's not how I-I just-" He can hear himself babbling which just makes the situation even worse because babbling is Miliband's department, not his. "It's just a-name. I suppose I-" This is going to sound bizarre, but it's going to sound even worse if he doesn't finish the explanation. "I-"  
He's not going to give this explanation staring at the desk like a schoolchild, so he lifts his head and glares straight at Miliband as he forces the words out. "I suppose I-occasionally-refer to you like that."  
Miliband blinks. "Refer to-"  
"You. I mean, mentally. Obviously. And it doesn't mean anything-" He's keen to make it quite clear that it doesn't mean anything. "I just-I suppose, it's just a-the way I think of you." _No, why that, why did he have to say-_ "Sometimes." His gaze has dropped while he's speaking and he presses his lips together and forces himself to stare back at Miliband, _daring_ him to be laughing right now.  
Miliband's staring at him, head tilted, mouth slightly open. "I-" He starts to say something, then stops. "I-um-" He tugs at his collar, clears his throat, and with a small shock, David realises Miliband's blushing harder now. Which doesn't do anything to help David with not thinking of that stupid name.  
"I-um-" Colour is creeping into Miliband's cheeks by the moment and it should not look as oddly endearing as it does. It's bloody _Miliband._  
It's bloody Miliband, who of course, knows nothing about good timing. "So-you, um-" His voice is far more muffled than usual. "It'th-it's like a-term of endearment, then-"  
David almost explodes. _"No,_ it is _not_ a term of bloody _endearment!_ It's just a-" He stops, searching for the correct word. "Nickname or-"  
He stops dead as Miliband's eyes flicker back to his own. "A nickname?"  
"Yes, Miliband. You do know what a nickname is, don't you?" The words come out harsher than he intends but Miliband's already sitting up straighter, that look in his eyes he gets whenever they're facing each other at the despatch box, and he knows whatever he's about to say next is going to rattle David exactly the way he wants.  
"I do. I mean, I'm surprised a man unfamiliar with the term _poverty_ knows the definition, but-"  
"Better than a man who doesn't know the average price of a weekly shop."  
Miliband's mouth twitches in what looks suspiciously like a suppressed smirk but then he says "Avoiding the issue is a real problem for you, isn't it?"  
"I'm-" David tugs at his own collar now. "I'm not avoiding the issue. You asked me the question and I answered it."  
"So it's a nickname?"  
David swallows. This is precisely where he didn't want the conversation to go. "I suppose so" he says, his voice lower now, and he wraps his fingers around his tie. "I mean-it's just-I don't know, it's just something I think of-"  
"About me?"  
David rolls his eyes. "No, Miliband, about _Osbourne._ Of course _about you-"_  
The silence that follows is deafening and David feels the heat creep even further up his cheeks. Miliband's mouth opens, then closes again. He's chewing at his lip even more frantically, eyes darting back and forth.  
The silence stretches until Miliband says, voice almost inaudible, "Cameron-I-um-" He swallows, chews at his lip again. "Um-"  
David focuses on his collar just to give himself something else to focus on other than the look on Miliband's face. "I didn't mean you to hear it." He hates the whine in his own voice, almost as much as he hates the fact that he's just given away the fact that he thinks of Miliband in an endearing way.  
His eyes flicker to Miliband's immediately, praying that maybe, just maybe, Miliband hasn't picked up on that but one look at Miliband's face tells him the truth.  
Miliband opens his mouth, then closes it again. There's a flush of colour rising slowly up his cheeks and David glances away awkwardly, then back again. Miliband is fidgeting with his tie, winding it around his finger.  
"Um-I-I didn't-I mean, I didn't know-I didn't expect-I-"  
Any other time, David would have relished the sight of Miliband babbling his way through an awkward moment but not right now.  
"I-um-" Miliband glances up at him, his lips already in that concerned pout he gets when he's not winning a point and that is _not_ what is distracting David right now _at all._ "I-that's rather-um-" He drops his gaze and when a soft "Thank you" comes, it's almost inaudible.  
David's jaw drops for a moment and an interminable silence falls, that drags on for a few moments before David can force out the words "You're welcome."  
Miliband opens his mouth, then closes it again. Then again. Then again.  
"Miliband, I know Labour don't like to get to the point, but do you think you could get round to saying something before we both drop dead?"  
David winces at the words the second they're out of his mouth but Miliband's eyes have narrowed, that spark back. "Cameron, I know Tories haven't heard of patience but now might be a time to exercith-exercise some."  
His cheeks flush a little at the lisp and David almost takes pity on him for a moment-no matter how low things between him and Miliband have got, he'd never pick on that aspect of his speeches, no matter how desperate he was for a shot to hit home. But then the words sink in and he feels that spark back in his own chest, the same spike of annoyance edged with something like excitement that always comes with fighting with Miliband.  
"Oh, well, Labour's attempts at patience have always worked out brilliantly. In fact, you patiently let the economy crumble for thirteen years-"  
"Cameron, you should have saved the recession argument for Prime Minister's Questions, I mean it's an _entirely_ new line of questioning that you haven't mentioned _once_ in the past five years-"  
"Miliband, has anyone ever told you that to run a country, you actually need to be a grown up?"  
"Has anyone ever told you, Davey, that-" Miliband snaps his mouth shut, his face flushing scarlet but David's already heard him and this makes the entire argument worth it.  
_"Davey?"_  
Miliband's blushing, eyes fixed on the floor. "I-I didn't tha-say that." His eyes are darting back and forth, that caught-in-the-headlights expression back, and David feels that pang of _something_ at the sight, the same pang he gets when he sees Miliband trip over his words, that comes dangerously close to _fondness._ He's babbling so fast that David almost feels sorry for him for a moment and then he remembers that Miliband didn't let him off the hook.  
He steps around the desk towards him. "Did you just call me-"  
"No." Miliband's arms are folded and he's pouting the way that usually gets right under David's skin.  
David leans closer. "Davey? Tad unimaginative."  
Miliband glances up at him. "For someone who came up with "Mili" I wouldn't point fingers, Cameron."  
"That's more Labour's department, Miliband."  
"I really didn't think your comebacks could get worse, Cameron, but-"  
"Davey."  
"What?"  
"Davey." David isn't even trying to suppress his grin now. "You might as well use the preferred name."  
Miliband stares at him. "You do know that technically you're insulting _yourself,_ Cameron?"  
David feels the grin slide into a glare. "Technically, most people would say that's _your_ department, Miliband."  
"By _most people,_ do you mean the top 1% that _you_ have experience of-"  
"You really could get that slogan printed on a T-shirt, Miliband. _Do you mean the top 1%_ is on it's way to being your election manifesto-"  
"Is _You've Misjudged Eton_ going to be yours?"  
"It's better than _Bill Somebody."_  
Miliband shakes his head, his eyes narrowed but what looks suspiciously like a grin tugging at his lips. "You might have to hold onto your superior slogans, given that your politics are the complete opposite-"  
"Oh, we will. And we'll be praying that Labour hold onto their current arguments, the way you're going, it will save us a lot of trouble convincing everyone-"  
Miliband glares at him, though it's half-hearted and David tries to focus on the words, not on the spike of anger and the strange warmth that seem to be battling in his chest right now. He tries to push away the idea that right now, he and Miliband have something in common.  
"I'd-well-I'd-"  
"Problem, Mili-" Miliband's eyes meet David's immediately and that heat is back, warm in his cheeks and what is _wrong_ with him?  
"Not a term of endearment, you said, Cameron?"  
David glares at him. "It's because it's in my head, now, Miliband. It's a psychological inclination." He tilts his head to the side. "Your party does know what those words _mean_ , don't they?"  
"They know what avoiding the issue means, too."  
"What do you want me to say about the issue? I've explained, I've apologized-you know, _you're_ the one focusing on the issue here, _you're_ the one who can't let go of it, God knows _why_ -and so, if anyone, it's _you_ who has the-"  
"You do know, Davey, that if anyone else could hear-" Miliband breaks off instantly, the blush from earlier returning full force, but the words are out there now and it's all David can do not to burst out laughing.  
"Davey?" he says again quietly and Miliband glares at the desk.  
"Am I sure I heard right?" David asks, feeling his smirk grow now it's Miliband wriggling on the hook again. "I mean, since I'm sure it was just a slip of the tongue. It's not as though you're _focusing on the issue_ or anything."  
Miliband glares at him, though it's slightly marred by the blush. David tries to think of _Miliband_ but all that's screaming in his head is _Mili._  
"Maybe-" It sounds distinctly as though Miliband's teeth are gritted. "Maybe I-" He swallows, clearly making an effort to keep calm. "I think things may have got out of control."  
A spike of something dark and cold and angry rises in David but there's a warmth under it too, a feeling that's unfamiliar but not unpleasant and he says "Oh, so things have got out of control because it turns out we share an issue?"  
David has time to reflect immediately after that sentence and realise that he's fairly fortunate that only he and Mili- _Miliband_ can hear at the moment.  
Miliband is staring at him and David swallows. "Look, that was-that was uncalled for." He braces himself for Miliband's grin, but Miliband just nods, that blush still visible in his cheeks. "I think-we're both professional enough to move on from this-oh, don't give me _that_ look" he groans, for Miliband has shown every sign of wanting to speak. "I already know what you're going to say-Tories brushing things under the carpet, etc.-"  
Miliband raises an eyebrow. "Actually, I was going to laugh at the idea of _you_ being professional."  
David glares at him. "Professional behaviour's that foreign an idea to you?" He sighs, his hand falling on Miliband's shoulder to cut off whatever he was about to say. (And that's the _only_ reason.) "I just mean we can-um-it doesn't-bother me."  
David holds out his other hand and Miliband takes it slowly, shaking it once. David tries not to let his thoughts stray because there's no need. No, there's no need to let his thoughts stray _anywhere_ near Miliband's hand or fingers or skin-  
Miliband glances at him. "You know, Cameron, that statement would be a relief if it wasn't so hypocritical but-"  
"OK, Miliband, let's not ruin the moment."  
He glances up and finds himself staring into Miliband's dark eyes, close enough to make out the shadows underneath, the way Miliband's eyebrow's arching. "We had a moment?"  
David glares at him and only then realises he still has his hand on Miliband's shoulder. He lets it fall immediately, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. He's still got hold of Miliband's hand but all he says is "Don't push it, Miliband."  
Miliband smirks. "That's your job, Cameron."  
"Oh, shut up, Mili." David wants to snatch the words back for the third time that day but Miliband's lips twitch and his voice is softer as he says "Shut up, Davey."  
David opens his mouth, then closes it again and feels a small, reluctant smile spread over his face. Miliband returns it and it's not the smirk he's just given him-it's something smaller, shyer, like a whisper between them and David notices their fingers are still wrapped around each other and neither of them are pulling away. He waits a few moments, waits for Miliband to pull back. Waits for himself to.  
Neither of them do and David Cameron can't stop the thought creeping into his mind that right now, at this moment, he and Ed Miliband might just have something in common after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously never thought I'd write for this fandom. Ever. Once again, complete fiction. No offence intended, whatsoever.  
> Also, I'm not that clear on a lot of aspects of politics so I'm presuming they'd have meetings and things to talk things over like this one. I watch a lot of PMQs, mainly.
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it.


End file.
